A Study In Secrecy
by TheSignsOfDeduction
Summary: "Are you serious?" He questioned. Walking closer to Sherlock, he saw the Principles of Drug Design textbook in Sherlock's lap and looked strangely at Sherlock. "You're studying," John deduced slowly, "Before Orientation Day." John's mouth was slightly open in disbelief, but the corners of his mouth suggested that there was some amusement in it as well.
1. Chapter 1

"Mother, you'd be delighted to hear that Sherlock's love life has taken quite a development," Mycroft contributed to the ongoing conversation about Sherlock's admission into Yorkshire University.

Sherlock's head snapped up swiftly to look at Mycroft, his eyebrows creased and his food half chewed in his mouth. Mycroft delighted in it, and his apparent enthusiasm continued as he smiled triumphantly throughout their mother's next words: "Is that so, Sherlock? Tell us more."

Sherlock stared questioningly at his mother, who had a mixture of surprise and amusement in her expression. His father chuckled at the exchange.

"Don't be so gullible, mother. He's my roommate. I don't even know his name." Sherlock retaliated.

"John Hamish Watson, age 19, studying in the Faculty of Math and Science – just like you – training to be a doctor. I sent you his file, Sherlock. Did you not get it?" Mycroft offered a practiced and official kindness in his tone. Sherlock scowled.

"Did you not request for your own room?" their father observed.

Sherlock looked pointedly at Mycroft, who shot him a false look of surprise and innocence. "I tried all I could, Sherlock. There's only so much influence you have over a Faculty in an Alma Mater you didn't study in."

"I'm sure Mycroft tried his best, Sherlly. But you," She said, turning to face Mycroft, "Don't pick on your young brother."

"I promise," Mycroft paused for dramatic effect, "Sherlly."

Sherlock's eyes darted from his mother to his brother and back to his mother. He wasn't sure who he was angrier at – Mycroft for having poked fun at him all night and most probably intentionally sabotaged his chances of having a room to himself in university, or his mother who had called him 'Sherlly'. He gave up trying to decide and wiped his mouth quickly. "I'm going to pack." He announced as he stepped away from the table and headed to his room. He could only hear indistinct sounds of disapproval from his mother directed at Mycroft as he reached his room.

As he spun around his room not noticing anything in particular about the room he was not going to be living in anymore for the most part of the next 3 years starting tomorrow, he couldn't help being excited at the prospect of going back to university.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hello John," Sherlock greeted his new roommate in the main grounds of the university, extending his right hand.

John looked at him quizzically and bemused, eyes darting down for a second to look at the extended hand. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

Sherlock's smile faltered. "Your new roommate."

"Ah! Nice to meet you. I didn't know they gave out pictures of each other's roommates." John said without a hint of doubt in his voice. He took Sherlock's hand and shook it.

Sherlock smiled and nodded. "See you later," He said uncomfortably. It wasn't something he said normally but John had been so painfully… conventional it seemed appropriate.

He glanced at his phone. 3.28pm. It was 12 more minutes to the gathering of all the new undergraduate students in the Queen Mary Hall. "Enough time to put my things down in my room before heading there," He thought determinedly to his himself.

As he settled down into an empty seat at the back of the hall just minutes before the introduction to new students was to begin, he noticed John struggling to move his luggage and bags into the hall.

Simple-minded fool.

"Some people." The person to his left said to Sherlock casually and yet condescendingly in an Irish accent, looking in the same direction as Sherlock was. Sherlock turned to face him, surprised.

"That's my roommate." Sherlock sighed.

"Good luck with that." His dark pupils slid to the side subtly but pointedly, chewing gum and smiling.

Sherlock recognized this person's distinct lack of adherence to societal norms for acquaintances and scanned him. He was about 20, with his hair fashionably and impeccably styled back, wearing a tie under a sweater. A bit formal for the crowd that has gathered, Sherlock thought. But then again, so was he, in a scarf and button-up.

Breaking the short silence, the stranger prompted: "I'm Jim. Studying Mathematics with Mathematical Physics. You?"

"Sherlock. Criminology and Psychology." Sherlock responded. Jim nodded and his eyes went over the length of Sherlock's body quickly.

"Welcome, students to Yorkshire University. I'm sure you'll find yourself a very enriching experience here.." 

His T-shirt clad roommate returned to his room hours after he deposited his things, finally realizing what a nuisance they were to carry around, but Sherlock had spent the hours going over his textbooks.

"Make any new friends?" John asked cheerfully as he walked into the room, still radiating some after-effects of too much laughter. Though he had intended the question as more of rhetoric, Sherlock didn't catch it.

"Er. Two." Sherlock replied. He wasn't too sure what the criteria was to earn the title of 'friend' but he had learnt the names of two people since he arrived.

John laughed for a moment, until he noticed the befuddled expression on Sherlock's face and realized that Sherlock was not joking. "Are you serious?" He questioned. Walking closer to Sherlock, he saw the Criminal Justice System textbook in Sherlock's lap and looked strangely at Sherlock. "You're studying," John deduced slowly, "Before Orientation Day." John's mouth was slightly open in disbelief, but the corners of his mouth suggested that there was some amusement in it as well.

"Well it wouldn't make sense to study on Orientation Day, seeing as to how we'd be.. orientating ourselves." Sherlock reasoned, but he was in unfamiliar territory and didn't know how to respond properly. He only feared that his friend counter would stand at one after this conversation.

"And my mother feared my roommate would be a negative influence," John joked. "So who's this other friend?"

"His name's Jim and he studies Mathematics with Mathematical Physics." Sherlock replied, glad that John hadn't judged him.

John let out a low whistle, shaking his head in some kind of admiration. "Quite the brainiac, eh?"

Sherlock frowned. "You're studyi-" Sherlock stopped himself before he revealed any more knowledge of John. "What are you studying?" He corrected himself.

"Biomedical Sciences."

"And that is easy to you?"

"Well, no, but it isn't math."

Sherlock didn't quite understand John's line of reasoning but he took it anyway. "I see."

"Well. We should start unpackin-" John stopped mid-sentence as he noticed that Sherlock had already finished. "I guess _I_ should start unpacking then."

Sherlock smiled and returned to reading his textbook while John fumbled while he unpacked, cursing under his breath whenever he accidentally unfolded a shirt or dropped something. 

The next day, Orientation Day, Sherlock woke up at 7am promptly and turned his alarm clock off after it rang softly once. He wondered if he should wake John, as John's alarm clock, though also supposed to go off as 7am, was not set. He contemplated this lightly as he changed into a white button up shirt and dark pants.

"John." Sherlock called as he fastened the last few buttons close to his neck. "John."

He walked over and shook John's shoulder and John squirmed and murmured a soft "Buzz off".

Sherlock decided to set John's alarm clock to a minute from then and let it wake John up. However, John pulled himself up enough only to snooze the alarm. Sherlock frowned slightly, but he decided to let his friend sleep some more.

Hence, after sliding his phone and wallet into his pocket, he headed out to the main grounds for Orientation alone.

Only about half the student population was there and Sherlock didn't know where to start. That is, until an enthusiastic and clipboard-wielding girl came up to him.

"Hello would you like to join Yorkshire's debate team? Here's a pamphlet. As you can see we've gotten many achievements in the past few years and it'd truly be a remarkable experience" She said in one breath.

"I'll.. think about it." Sherlock said as he walked away.

Nothing of interest caught his attention, really. Well, until-

"Where's John?" Jim asked Sherlock nonchalantly, chewing gum yet again. He was clad in a dark jacket over a grey V-neck T-shirt and black pants.

"Possibly still sleeping," Sherlock guessed. Jim snorted.

"Come." His deep voice invited, and motioned for Sherlock to follow..

They spent the next hour going from booth to booth, taking pamphlets and laughing to themselves about how cheesy some of them were.

"Robotics: We Secretly Do Have A Heart" Moriarty dramatized the awful slogan in a mocking tone with wide and expressive hand gestures.

Sherlock chuckled. "Not for me, then." He joked.

"You don't have a heart?" Jim said with slight disbelief, turning to face Sherlock.

"I've been told so." Sherlock shrugged.

"We both know that's not quite true." Jim comforted teasingly.

There was booth after booth, and each had their own selling pitch; be it a slogan or a candy or a Chance To Broaden Your Horizons.

"Anything catch your eye?" Jim asked. Sherlock didn't know why but he had found Jim's voice to have a certain musical tilt to it.

"Well. I can play the violin." Sherlock said as he looked at the college's band club booth. They called themselves The Tunes and their slogan was "We Can Pull A Few Strings."

"Why not? I mean, you _can _pull a few strings," Jim encouraged with reference to the bad slogan, "Play for me sometime."

"Sure. How about you? Have you seen any you like?" Sherlock asked.

Jim frowned and tightened his lips as if to say "not really". He shook his head.

"Well that's alright. It's not compulsory or anything."

"Sherlock! Why didn't you wake me?" John brisk walked towards Sherlock. His blond hair was rumpled and he was in the midst of wearing his sweater.

"I did. I called you and shook you but you wouldn't wake." Sherlock casually muttered.

"Oh," John said, "Don't hesitate to dump a pail of water over my head next time."

Sherlock wasn't sure whether that was a figure of speech or literal, but he made a mental note to wake John up in the future.

"Will.. do."

"So er," John raised his eyebrows and nodded towards Jim whilst looking at Sherlock.

"Oh! Yes! Sorry. John this is Jim, Jim this is John." Sherlock introduced.

"Hello Jim, I've heard about you." John told his new acquaintance.

"Have you?" Jim asked rhetorically, looking pleased with himself.

"So who's hungry?" Sherlock asked, slightly embarrassed.

"Starving." John replied, oblivious to what was going on.

"I already had breakfast. Catch you later." Jim grinned and stalked away, hands in his pant pockets

"What'd I miss in the first hour of Orientation?" John inquired.

"Nothing, it was absolutely uneventful." Sherlock replied distantly. He wondered why it felt like he had lied.

The first class of the year for Sherlock was Introduction to Criminology. The professor's eyes seemed sharp, piercing even, like she could read people like a book.

"Welcome to An Introduction to Criminology, I'm Ms Avens. I hope all of you do well in this class. What is Criminology? It is the study of the nature, the extent, management and control, not to forget the consequences and prevention of criminal behaviour."

Sherlock sat up straighter.

"You will analyse various social structure theories and debate the mechanisms behind them. The term was coined by an Italian law professor in 1885, Raffaele Garofalo. He believed that.." Ms Aven's clear voice rang throughout the room, managing to keep everyone's attention.

Sherlock listened attentively, typing down notes on his laptop from time to time. Sherlock gathered more skills to add to his already plentiful arsenal of knowledge in the area.

After Ms Avens had ended the lecture, she abruptly made an announcement.

"Oh, and before I forget there's a project for this course at the end of the term. You will be split into different groups and help authorities investigate real crimes. It will constitute a large part of your grade." She finished as students in the class turned to look at her, some already halfway through the door 

The class left, the room and hallways filled with indistinct whispers about the project. Some were nervous and uncertain about what the prospect could entail. Others were worried about what it could do to their grade. After all, a term wasn't nearly enough to be an expert in criminology. Sherlock couldn't wait.

Later that day, after all Sherlock's classes had concluded, he headed back to his dorm. Some classes he had enjoyed immensely, like Introduction to Abnormal Psychology, and others he simple endured. He opened his Self and Society textbook and sat on his bed to read it. Perhaps it had been the exhaustion of trying to be awake and attentive for so long, but his while his textbook was wide open, his eyes only grazed the words. He couldn't concentrate.

Out of nowhere, Sherlock's mind conjured up the image of Jim laughing at his jokes. Shocked, he wasn't sure whether to admit to the clear implications of what he just experienced or to ignore it.

Ignore it completely.

But he couldn't help think about the way he never thought accents could be attractive until he heard it roll off Jim's tongue. Or the way Jim could tell Sherlock something he didn't want others to know in their presence. Or the way Jim's smile looked like it held a thousand secrets, and how he would smirk after teasing Sherlock, and snort like...

"Hey Sherlock."

Sherlock's eyes opened wide and his head jerked as if he was involved in anything suspicious before John came in. "Hey John," He managed as convincingly as he could.

"Back to Self and Society," He said with determination to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite his original reluctance to join the Debate Team, he found himself leafing through its pamphlet's few pages on a Saturday afternoon. His eyes scanned through the little introductory to the club and found himself actually liking the idea of being in a room where his views would be constantly challenged, where he was able to challenge that of others' without being shot down, chided, or as usual: ignored. So, clutching the pamphlet he'd almost thrown in the trash, he headed to a lecture hall labelled 'Debate Room'.

When he was outside the room, he could already hear muffled sounds of what was going on.

"The House calls the First Speaker of the Proposition to the floor for the motion, This House supports public criticism and campaigns against ultra-right religious groups."

He slipped in swiftly and as silently as he could manage and sat down in a seat at the back of the hall. Sherlock wondered what his stance on the motion would be, if provided the option of deciding. Around twenty-five people were scattered around the hall, notepads in front of them and pens in their hands, but six people -two teams of three each - sat down at tables at the forefront of the hall, facing the rest. A woman clad in skinny jeans and a cardigan over a camisole stood up to walk to the table that was placed slightly in front of and between the two sets of tables.

"Hate the sin, love the sinner. This is what normal religious groups say, but ultra right religious groups would say: Hate the sin, hate the sinner, and bomb _the hell_ out of him. Ultra right religious groups are groups that are hostile toward other groups, they are ultra conservative groups, and they are groups which oppress other groups, a certain gender, race or religion."

Sherlock relaxed in his seat and watched the speaker intently, a frown borne out of concentration appearing on his face. He found himself with the pleasure of being pleasantly surprised at the level of intellect that was behind the argument that was just put forth.

"They are groups like the KKK in the USA, and the Neo-Nazis in Germany. They possess obstructionist views and behaviour. All of this then becomes a problem because what they aim to do is to convince others of the beliefs and impose their beliefs on others. Their success is predicated upon the destruction of societal fabric and freedom of expression." The debater continued, articulate, expressive, dominant, and convincing.

Thoughts began racing through Sherlock's mind about ways to refute the speaker's statements, accompanied by a feeling of determination. Normally, this determination would not exist, but it did this time, for he wanted to think of a counter-argument that would at least baffle the speaker for a moment. He started scribbling these thoughts down on a sketch pad he brought along. _If these groups were so bad, why not just ban them? Why are these groups treated so differently just because of the extent of their damage?_

"Point." A deeper voice that certainly did not come from the female debater said, interrupting the speaker.

Sherlock looked up and saw a man from the opposing team standing. He thought for a moment that he should have read up on the format of debates.

"Yes." The female speaker replied.

"These groups should be outright banned if they are as bad as you claim." He stated and sat down.

Sherlock was actually surprised that another in the room shared his line of thought.

"Sir, we think it is harmful for people to have these beliefs, but we aren't outright banning them because we can't prevent them from having these views - it's impossible to do so. The only thing we can do is to campaign against these views. Besides, we are advocates for the freedom of expression; we do think these people have a right to their ideologies and views. We simply can't have them killing others for not sharing the same beliefs!"

Some people around the room nodded in agreement. Sherlock was absolutely enthralled by the debate that was going on, and he'd feel a strange sensation of satisfaction every time someone delivered a good rebuttal or argument. By the end of the debate, a full page and a half of his sketchpad was filled with writings. He stood up to walk down to the front where the various debaters gathered.

"Hey," Greeted the female debater who took on the role of First Proposition, "I'm Charlie. What's your name?"

"Sherlock Holmes." He introduced.

"Thinking of joining?" Charlie asked.

"Yes, I think so. I've never actually done this before." Sherlock admitted.

"Anyone's welcome. Drop by next week at 12:30. It starts at one but I'll give you a quick introductory training session." Charlie offered.

Sherlock smiled. "I'll remember."

And every Saturday afternoon thereafter, Sherlock headed to the same room.


End file.
